


On the Road (Working Title)

by Naene



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), captainsparklez - Fandom
Genre: Captainsparklez music video fic, Gen, Minecraft, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-09
Updated: 2018-04-09
Packaged: 2019-04-20 17:40:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14266248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Naene/pseuds/Naene
Summary: Something powerful has been stolen from Notch, causing a manhunt to span the length of the country.





	On the Road (Working Title)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [We Are The Night](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/369411) by CaptainSparklez. 



> This is my first fic on AO3, I'm planning for it to be story-length and to update every week as long as there are readers for it. Let me know what you think. It's a fic based on the events/aftermath of this animation by Captainsparklez. 
> 
> I'm planning to update every week, but I am at uni, so it might be slow.

The sun rose steadily over the grassland hills, its cold light washing across the wheat fields as they rippled in a soft breeze. A cart dragged itself heavily forward on a dirt track road, leaving welts in the earth from last night's rain. An hour of the early morning had been enough to take down tents and the night's defences, and for travelers to resume their tired trudge.

  
Myth didn't mind the early start; she found the fresh morning air peaceful, especially after the clutter of camp. The lazy buzz of midday wasn't on them yet, and the sluggish warmth of summer was yet to set in. It was the optimal time to travel - the night was behind rather than ahead, and she was more awake than any other time of day.

  
The reigns pulled tight, a horse snorted in protest, and the cart heaved to a stop. She frowned, pushing herself to her feet and shoving past the barrels towards the front. "What's going on?"

  
"Roadblock."

  
"You're kidding."

  
The track ahead was blocked by a few blocks from a fallen tree, Players in the uniform of the city guard standing idly around it. Myth cursed and spat on the ground underneath a wheel. "What'd'you want?"

  
"This route has been cordoned off because of the manhunt from the City. All carts have to be searched. Get out."

  
"We're miles away from the City!"

  
"This will only take a few minutes."

  
"Yeah, and time grows on trees." She hissed through her teeth, swinging herself down from the cart. "We've got nothing to hide. Make it quick."

  
For the first time that day she could have a good look at the biome they were travelling through; it was marshy, much less pleasant than the firm grassland of the day before, and the mulch manifested in shallow pools hidden among the lowland wheat. Spindly trees poked up sparsely around the road, and up ahead they clustered into the first level of a birchwood forest, but not before a small cluster of houses intersected the route.  
"Village?" She glanced at Maine, their driver, who nodded coyly. "We timed that badly."

  
"Couldn't have continued last night. Left it too late." Maine said shortly. "'Less you want a trip to the bottom of the bog."

  
She bristled, but didn't reply. Mobs weren't a problem anymore. Only superstitious idiots thought it would make any difference to continue into the evening. She reminded herself that Maine also believed in tales of Herobrine and the dark forests, and satisfied herself with a smirk.

  
"All clear." The guard snapped brusquely. "Oh, and we should warn you to be careful past the border. There've been sightings of witches and rats near the village recently."

  
"Sure, fine, we'll do that." She dismissed them uncaringly. "Let's get going. Stop at the village, I guess."

  
The blocks were shoved aside, the horses shoved back into action, their clumsy cart jerking along after them.

 

***

 

It was only a couple of miles to the village, the cart drawing to a steady halt among the houses. Myth had expected Villagers, but to her surprise there seemed to be just as many Players here. They greeted the cart with a grin and a wave, or just ignored it and continued to carve their way through the fully-grown wheat. The grasslands had caved in several places around the fields, a good spot for mining and farming together. Players would have to be a sucker for both to bother living this far out of the City.

  
"You brought the supplies?" One of them had approached the cart, his farming scythe probably the most unnerving thing about him. He had a friendly look to him, wearing simple blue, with brown eyes and dark skin. Myth shot him a glare of disdain.

  
"Not for this village, 'm afraid," Maine responded, hopping down from his seat at the front of the cart, tying the reigns to their hook at the side. "But we've non-essentials to sell on the way."

  
"Just as good," the Player gave them a grin. "Hope the roadblock didn't give you too much trouble."

  
"Was wondering why theyv'e set it up all the way out here, actually." Maine shook his hand warmly. "Maine."

  
"Alex," he gave him a nod in return. "You haven't heard? They've been all over for the last few days. Thieves got into Notch's mansion - oof, about a week ago - and stole something. Don't ask me what. They're probably the most wanted Players in the country right now."

  
Myth glanced at Maine, frowning. "We didn't hear about that."

  
"Been on the road for longer. Surprised we didn't run into them before."

  
"Yeah, well, you know they'll only set up near villages. No-one wants a long-term camp out there at night."

  
"Speaking of which..."

"You'll want the inn. The big one, down there. Don't mind the owner, he's a Villager and grumpy is just his natural state. I'll see you to buy if you hang around for a while."

  
"Sure," Maine sent him off with a dip of his head, to Myth's frustration.

  
"Now we're stuck here for the day. Happy?"

  
"Yes, villages make for good company." _Better than you_ , he finished silently.

  
She gave him a dirty look, heading to the back of the cart and pulling it open. The guards hadn't made too much of a mess, but she scowled all the same. Her coat and pack were across the barrels from where she had left them, her stone sword on the other side of the carton of apples they had traded for back in the City outskirts. She grabbed all three, donning them and slamming the cart back shut again.

  
"Held up for a day. If we're late, I'm not taking the flak."

  
Maine didn't bother to answer.

 

***

 

The inn wasn't bad when it came to accomodation outside the city. After a few weeks in a tent, it was practically luxury, but Myth didn't want to admit that. She glared seethingly at the small potted plant standing peacefully on the windowsill, and pulled a book out of her pack.

  
She ran her hand across its gilded cover, enjoying the hard leather beneath her fingers. It was bound with a clasp, heavy enough to be weighted, and decorated to a ridiculous extent, although it was elegant to Myth. She sat on the bed staring at it for a while before footsteps outside the door made her shove it back into her pack. "Come in?"

  
"Got a seller for the apples, a farm down the way." Maine was talking before he was fully in the room. "Get us a good few coins, payin' well."

  
"Right. Fine. I'll be down in a minute." She glanced back at her pack before swinging off the bed, pulling her coat off its hook and stuffing her arms into the sleeves. "Who trades that much for _apples_?"

  
Maine merely shrugged.

 

***

 

The road down to the farm was short and visible, practically an extension of the village. A black and white collie barked and ran up the path to greet them as they approached the house. "Aye! Sorry 'bout that. Arnie, come back 'ere an' stop buggin' our guests."

 

The dog stopped and whined, to Myth's relief. She had no wish to fend off a mongrel right now.

  
"They says yeh're bringin' apples," the farmer trudged up the path, causing Myth to jump a foot backwards. His leg was missing, replaced by a flimsy old contraption for balance, and he walked with the help of a cane. He was old, with a bushy white beard and laughter lines. "A big fan o' apples. Not many orchards afore the Oak Forest, see."

  
"Brought the whole carton," Maine said warmly. His tone made Myth bristle; he only ever used it with strangers.

  
"Aye, it's my lucky day," he ruffled between the dog's ears as it reached him, bouncing happily around his legs. "I got the money, if yeh wanna come in for a cup o' tea firs'?"

  
"We'd-

  
"Be happy to," Maine cut across her, walking across to shake the old man's hand. "Maine."

  
"Jo," he greeted. "Mos' people jus' call me Bones. C'mon in, the kettle's boilin'."

  
"Bones?"

  
"Ah yeah. All 'cause o' this," he tapped his false leg with his cane, making a strange thunking sound. "Shot through the ankle by a skelly, back when we was huntin' em in the woods. Didn't cause me t' lose ma leg, though, that were a rat. Got bit when the blood drew them, wound festered, all tha'. Had to have it amputated tha' week. Nice ol' story to tell now the kids don't go down the woods no more. Puts the fear of Herobrine in 'em."

  
"That it does," Maine agreed. Myth noticed with a scornful glance that he was deadpan.

  
"I can see why the dog likes you, then," Myth took pleasure in a joke at the farmer's expense, but he just laughed heartily.

  
"Yeh're right there. C'mon in."

The kitchen was cosy and small, old-fashioned, with an oven nestled next to the table to warm the room. Myth had no idea why they had to sit down just to trade some apples, but she wasn't about to stand up and leave if he was offering enough to make Maine happy. All the same, apples were hardly an interesting trade.

  
Maine leaned forward once they'd settled down around the table, almost conspiratorially. "Heard you might know some more about that roadblock up the way." He sat back, pulling one of the crates from the floor and setting it on the table. "Just routine, or...?"

  
"That Player already-" she stopped as she felt the pressure of his boot against hers.

  
"Ain't no routine, 'm afraid." He glanced around as though they weren't the only ones in the kitchen save the dog, and leaned in as well. "'Bout a week ago, a couple o' thieves got into the Vault in Notch's mansion. Di'n't take nothin', jus' left it like that. You di'n't hear if from me, but they musta took somethin' they don't want us t' know about."

  
"If they don't want you to know about it, how come you know the rest?" Myth gave him a skeptical look.

 

"Aye, someone come down 'ere a few days back, warnin' us 'bout the guards scourin' the roads. He got it from a bartender, who got it from a drunk soldier who were guardin' the vault at the time."

  
"Bit of a chain, though, right?"

  
"Better than most," Maine concluded, taking a sip of his tea. "Anyway, apples."

 

***

 

She lay awake, watching the ceiling and listening to the rustlings of the night outside. At least in cities there were Players all around you, making noise and trading places until it was some ridiculous hour in the morning. Out here, you got nothing but silence.

  
That wasn't entirely true. There were insects, and the odd snapping of twigs that made you tense up and reach for your sword, but that was nothing to Myth. She was used to the rowdy city, and she hated this lifelessness.  
It didn't help that the inn's room was too warm. It had been heated steadily throughout the evening by a stoked fire, something that must have cost them a fortune - possibly more than the apples - and was completely unnecessary. Maine had probably requested it to mock her, knowing full well he was in his own room.

  
She closed her eyes, trying to sleep for a few more minutes before giving up and sitting up. It wouldn't hurt to open a window, surely not on the second floor. Groggily, she swung her legs off the bed, stretching and standing up, trying to ignore the mild headache thumping at her forehead. As she unhitched the latch, she stopped.

  
In the street below, a shadow filled up the space between buildings, its head higher than the level of the second floor. It stretched out feathered wings that ruffled in the breeze, looking up at the sky with a hawk's face, before it shot its gaze around to meet hers.

  
She cried out, stumbling backwards and falling, crashing into the boards and scrambling back further until she hit the bed. Her heart was thumping in her chest. The horselike shape was clear in her mind, nothing she'd seen before. Its yellow eyes, reflecting the moon, burned themselves into her memory.

  
"Amytha? Are you alright?"

There was a knock at the door, breaking the silence of the room, and a muffled voice coming through. "We heard you fall."

  
"I... I'm fine." She pulled herself to her feet and looked back towards the window, but whatever she'd seen there was gone.

  
"Right," the voice was disbelieving, but she could hear receding footsteps as they retreated down the hall.

  
She felt herself slowly wind down as the clock ticked a few more minutes away. "Sleepless nights do that," she told herself quietly. "An overactive imagination."

All the same, as she headed back to bed, she gave the window one last glance. 


End file.
